


Not Quite A Date

by RbnSS



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: It's kind of sweet but also horrible, M/M, Sexual Tension, blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 18:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11742900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RbnSS/pseuds/RbnSS
Summary: Bruce is on another date for the sole purpose of feeding the media, but gets inturrpted.





	Not Quite A Date

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the sweet @melody1987 for giving me the idea. If you somehow managed to check out the batjokes tag and have not already heard of her you're making a huge mistake and need to make a beeline to her fanfics right now!!  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one shot.

Bruce Wayne fixed a smile on his freshly shaven face, with his chin sitting on his palm and body hunched forward as his date talked. This position was not only comfortable for someone as drained as Bruce but also feigned interest. The dim lights of the restaurant made the bags under his sleepless eyes seem less noticeable, and the charming piano music in the background sounded so familiar to every song that people could mistake it for being just one long track. 

The woman sat in front of him had pale skin and lipstick lips, and a fitted purple dress that Bruce suggested for her to wear over the phone, of course, for no particular reason at all. Purple was a lovely color.

They both sat in a booth, which also had its points. It was easier to go unnoticed when he was tucked away in the corner of the restaurant. Although the point of this was to get attention, Bruce didn't find himself complainning. They both were browsing through the menus still. She made a snarky comment that Bruce didn't quite catch but he smiled along with her and took a sip of his water, sneaking a glance at his watch. 

"Have you love-doves decided on what you both wanted?" The server asked behind Bruce. The voice was different from their assigned waiter, who was previously a female. "I'm John, I'll be your server for this evening."

"What happened to the blond girl?" The date asked, tilting her head and pushing her bottom lip out in confusion. 

"She slipped and fell," He said with a sharp edge in his voice. Bruce's hand went stiff around the glass. He turned to peek at the waiter, but with the dim lights and the tray he was carrying in front of his face made it hard to decipher his features. Yet his voice stung with a familiarity that made Bruce's heart beat just a little harder. "I'm taking over her shift now. Any refreshments?"

"Bruce...?" His date reached over and touched his wrist, only getting half of his full attention. He fought back the urge to move the tray out of the man's hand and brought his focus back to the woman, giving her a tight smile and clearing his throat.

"Your finest wine, for the finest woman," Bruce replied, making his date slap his hand and giggle. The waiter left without a word, Bruce's eyes following the back of his head until he was out of sight. He tells himself that his hair was black, and the color just looked distorted with the bad lighting. 

More casual conversation, which Bruce had mastered the ability to get through. It's comprised of Bruce nodding along and prompting her to talk more, while never truly contributing to the conversation. Sometimes he feels guilty of the manipulation but reminds himself that it's part of the job. 

Bruce reckoned she was talking about the price of her laced heels before the waiter came back. He swiftly placed two glasses filled halfway with wine and the bottle on the table. His date closed her menu and rose her finger up for his attention, but the waiter paid no mind to her and gave a quick excuse to leave. "I'll be back shortly, have your menus prepared." 

"That was rude," the date said, raising her eyebrows at Bruce and taking a swill of her drink. 

"Yeah, that was.... something," Bruce craned his neck, trying to locate where the waiter bolted to. Bruce turned to face her odd look. "But uh, you know how people are around me, being Bruce Wayne." 

She hummed in agreement, her eyes lighting up as if she was just reminded who she was dining with, before looking a bit embarrassed. "I'll be right back, I just have to-" she tilted her head to the restrooms, and Bruce nodded for her to leave. 

Finally being somewhat alone allowed him to relax. He laid his cheek in his hand, closing his eyes and listening to the music and the chatter that surrounded the place. Another hour or two, and this will be over. He thought about the cave, the work that needed to be done. His thoughts drifted to the criminals that lurked in the streets, the recent breakouts from Arkham. And of course, this leads him to think about a certain green haired embodiment of the plague.

"Looks like you were stood up." 

The moment could be easily described as having your head plunged into ice-cold water. The music wasn't audible anymore, and everything else had frozen up and became still, because suddenly the only noise he could hear was the laughter that linked with that undisguised voice. Bruce snapped his eyes open instantly. The seat in front of him was stolen by the man himself, red lipstick and ill-colored skin and the whole sh'bam. And Batman wasn't here, and Bruce Wayne was, and he's out in the open, and everybody could be in grave danger now.

"She's been gone now- for what? Thirty minutes? Her lost, you're quite the looker, Bruce." His voice went a whole pitch lower at his name, causing the billionaire to stifle a shiver. 

"Joker. What are you doing here?" He asked through gritted teeth, his breathing uneven and anxiety beginning to swell in his chest. His eyes quickly darted to the nearest exit, and then to his watch, concluding that it really has been half an hour since she left. 

Joker cradled Bruce's face, slightly squishing his cheeks together and keeping Bruce's focus directed on him. "Now now, sugar. I was just cruising and then I noticed a certain face, and now I'm here."

Bruce brushed his bony hands away, his eyes clear with distrust. "What did you do to her?"

"Your waitress or your date?" He asked, relaxing an arm around his chair.

Bruce's jaw clenched, and his fingers twitched and molded into a fist. If they were anywhere else, and he wasn't Bruce Wayne, he would attempt to break every bone in his body. "Both."

"Well the first one fell, and the other one- well, I guess she fell too. Heels could be such a pain to walk in, and I'd know." He served Bruce a roguish smile and a wink.

Bruce opened his mouth to give a retort but was cut off by Joker snapping his fingers and calling over a waiter. "Wine, please! Don't worry Bruce I already pitched an order for us. Very expensive, so you're paying."

"Joke-"

"No joke, darling. You're loaded, so it shouldn't be a problem." Joker leaned in with a mischievous grin, ducking a hand under the table and pressing the barrel of a gun between Bruce's legs. His voice went back into the sweet dangerous tone he used countless times before. "But if there is a problem, I'm quite loaded too." 

Bruce could feel his face heat up, but before he can truly react two dishes were placed in front of them. 

"Appetizers; Ricotta and Prosciutto Crackers," The waiter explained. Joker pulled back and clapped his hands together in excitement.

"Awh, look how small they are," he picked a cracker off the plate and popped it between his red lips. "I feel like a fancy upper classman."

He watched the man swallow it down, before looking to his side and reminding himself that there's nothing memorizing about the man's mouth, or his throat, or the intensity in his child-like eyes. He caught on to some people staring. Bruce, of course, is used to this, but quickly realized of the reality that they're not the only ones in this restaurant, and the people are probably wondering why on Earth Bruce Wayne was eating out with The Joker. And why no one was freaking out, but perhaps this is just how Gotham is and this kind of stuff is expected now.

Joker plucked another off the plate and hovered it in front of Bruce's lips. "Have a taste, Brucie."

Their eyes were again locked. His throat felt dry, and would personally enjoy a drink more. More over, anyone in the right mind shouldn't indulge this man. But the challenge was evident in his voice, and Bruce couldn't help but rise to it. For his own safety, of course, it'd be disastrous if he angered the clown.

He gingerly opened his mouth and took in the appetizer, the edges of his lips closing in around the Joker's fingers for just a second. Just long enough to really feel how cold the madman's skin was, and how it truly did feel like skin, and underneath was bone, and in front of him was indeed a man. Not just any man of course, but another human. Perhaps it was a second too long, for an illicit smile cracked across his face, his pupils widely expanding and breathing just slightly heavier. Not just any man.

Bruce dropped his gaze and Joker leaned back with satisfaction, ending the foreplay for just a moment. Bruce took in the sounds again, the clattering of the utensils and the chatter and the overused jazz music. His body feels hot and he knows his face is flushed. His head hurts, but in this lighting Joker's bleached skin reflects a warmer color, and his hair color doesn't look quite as distinguishable, seeing how dim it is, and maybe his lips don't remind him of the blood he's drained but more of just red lipstick that people use day to day. 

"What are you planning?" Bruce cautiously asked. The Joker gasped with offense, his fingers placed above his heart and eye batting with mock innocence. 

"Can't a clown just intrude when he wants too? Bruce Wayne is sitting alone and you think I'm not going to jump on the chance? Don't be ridiculous." 

"I wasn't sitting alone."

"Well you are now," Joker injected with a smile and more relaxed facial features, but his eyes held the same madness as it always did. Bruce didn't trust him. 

He sensed it too, so he scoffed, "Fine, fine. I didn't do anything extreme, just gave her a stomach ache that she won't be waking up to anytime soon." To explain further he grabbed Bruce's untouched glass of wine and poured in his, before setting the filled glass by the side of them. The billionaire felt a bit of relief that he didn't drink any.

Bruce leaned back, scanning the Joker's face. Of course, he's nearly unreadable, but that doesn't stop him from trying. The silence goes on for a short minute, and meanwhile, Joker stuffs more crackers in his mouth.

"So you're just here for a date?" He asked, and as soon as the words came out Bruce couldn't help but let out a laugh. Joker giggled with him, his eyes managing to soften an inch. 

"I suppose so, and the food, of course." Joker popped another cracker in his mouth, and Bruce let out another breathy laugh- the cause being the relief washing over him. He reminded himself to stay alert of The Joker despite this because of course, this could all go south in a blink of an eye.

When the food arrives, it's hardly touched. Bruce's hunger had barely returned, and Joker can't stop talking about everything that pops into his head, but he likes listening to him when he's not talking about chaos, and Bruce actually contributes to the conversation. The next half an hour sweeps by them quickly, and although Bruce was on guard the whole time, he could almost call this a nice experience, and he almost wants to hold onto this moment forever. This insane, softer moment between someone as staged as Bruce Wayne and as surreal as The Joker.

Joker's the first who stands to leave, but not before he pulls out a withered flower out from the apron he was still wearing. It was flat and most of its peddles were gone, but Bruce accepted it and put it in the pocket in his suit, where it would be safe.

Once the clown left Bruce stood up too, grabbing his coat and texting Alfred to pick him up. He moves towards the exit before remembering his original date and thinking better of it, turning to make sure she wasn't passed out in the middle of the women's restroom. He waited by the door to make sure no one was inside before entering and scanning for her sleeping body.

The stalls were all opened except one, and Bruce ran a hand through his hair and knocked, calling for the women to open the door. Of course, she did not answer, still being under the influence of whatever Joker claimed to have drugged her with, so Bruce bashed his upper arm against the door and nearly tumbled inside as the door swung open. 

The woman was sitting with her arms dangling by her sides, her neck tipped back and mouth gaping open, with four bullet holes in her stomach.


End file.
